


Taking The First Step (The I Wish I Might Remix)

by leiascully



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Christmas, Christmas Presents, F/F, Mutually Unrequited, Remix, Secret Crush, Unrequited Love
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2015-06-21
Updated: 2015-06-21
Packaged: 2018-04-05 10:07:24
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,592
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/4175808
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/leiascully/pseuds/leiascully
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p>Irma will find the perfect gift to show Rolanda how she feels.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Taking The First Step (The I Wish I Might Remix)

**Author's Note:**

  * For [JosephineStone](https://archiveofourown.org/users/JosephineStone/gifts).
  * Inspired by [Taking The First Step](https://archiveofourown.org/external_works/127539) by JosephineStone. 



> Timeline: N/A  
> A/N: Choosing a work to remix wasn't easy !  
> Disclaimer: _Harry Potter_ and all related characters are the property of JK Rowling and Scholastic. No profit is made from this work and no infringement is intended.

The tiny paper airplane flew toward her and Irma held out her hand and let it land on her palm. She unfolded the paper carefully and stood staring at it. Then she tucked it in her robe pocket, blushing, and hurried off to the stacks, coming back to the front with four or five books piled in her arms. She set them carefully on the table and began to flip through them. _Gifting Etiquette_ , read the title on the top book; under it were _What To Get When You Don't Know What To Get_ and _Gifts for Every Occasion_. 

"Ah, Madame Pince," Minerva said, coming up to the library desk in a swish of skirts and robes. "Did you receive your gift exchange assignment?"

Irma nodded, taking the note from her pocket, and gazed again at the paper. "Rolanda Hooch," it read in Minerva's scratchy script, the green ink glowing on the slightly golden paper. Minerva peered at it over the tops of her glasses.

"It seems to me this might be an opportunity for you," she said kindly. "After all this time, you might find a way to express yourself."

"What should I get for her?" Irma asked helplessly. She picked up the top book from a stack of books on etiquette and gift-giving. "I've been through every one of these. Nothing seems right."

"You can put away the books," Minerva said, smiling a little wider than usual.

"You're laughing at me," Irma said reproachfully.

"Of course not," Minerva reassured her.

Irma looked down at her books, blushing. "Minerva...I think you know how I feel about her."

"Yes," Minerva said. "I believe I do. But she almost certainly does not, Irma. You are not, after all, a particularly demonstrative person."

"I've shown her how I feel," Irma protested.

Minerva smiled and put her hand gently on Irma's arm. "My dear Madame Pince, we no longer live in the Victorian era. A longing glance here and there and a tender word does not reveal the true depths of your heart."

Irma gazed down at her books. "Perhaps it should."

Minerva patted her arm. "I'm certain that you'll find the perfect gift to express your feelings for her."

"Do you think she needs new Quidditch gloves?" Irma asked, a little desperately.

"No, I don't think she needs any new Quidditch gloves," Minerva said. "Or anything else related to sport. There is more to life than Quidditch. Even for Madame Hooch."

"I will find something," Irma said. "I will. The perfect gift. I'll find it."

"I have every confidence in you," Minerva said crisply, but her eyes were sympathetic. "I am certain that whatever you choose to give her, she'll begin to understand your feelings."

"I hope so," Irma said, flipping open the book on the top of the stack. "I truly hope so."

Minerva seemed about to say something else, but she merely nodded. "Will I see you in my office for tea?"

"Probably," Irma said, absorbed in her reading. "I may be some time."

"Of course," Minerva said. Irma heard the rustle of robes as Minerva walked away. After a moment, she sighed and closed the book. Dust floated over her desk. There was nothing in the book that would help her, which was a difficult thought to comprehend. She'd put her faith in books all her life. Books had always held the answers. Admittedly, her situation was more than a little complicated. There seemed to be little precedent for a librarian in love with a Quidditch and flying instructor, both of them women and far past the age of giddy confessions in the cloakroom. There was no traditional gift that might serve as a shorthand for all she wanted to say. _I adore you. When I see you fly, my heart follows you, lighter than air. I might write a book of letters to you and still not encompass all I feel. I have never read our story, but I wish to. We might make a life together, here in this place of learning and growing._

There weren't many students in the library. The Christmas holidays had started the day before, and few students were staying over this year. It took no time at all to gently usher them out, promising the library would be open again in the evening. Irma pulled her dark blue winter cloak from its hook, put on her sturdy boots, and walked down to the village. Hogsmeade was alight with candles and lanterns, cheery flickering flames that illuminated the snow and the windows of the shops and the pubs. 

Gifts were on display in every shop, laid out beautifully, even the inedible baubles and novelties looking good enough to eat. It was a world of gingerbread and chocolate and spun sugar. Irma pulled her cloak more tightly around herself as she wandered through the narrow streets. She discarded the notion of a book, a pair of soft leather gloves, a box of Honeydukes chocolates. None of them were the right thing. None of them were personal enough. None of them conveyed the depth of the affection she held for Rolanda. 

But then, there it was in the jewelry shop: a string of pearls that glowed softly on the black velvet of the backdrop. Irma knew immediately. She opened the door, transfixed by the pearls, hardly listening to the shopgirl tell her that pearls were suitable for any occasion, elegant and tasteful. All she could think of was those pearls lying like drops of moonlight against Rolanda's skin, warmed by her pulse. She had the shop wrap the package prettily and then she tucked it into her cloak and hurried back up the path to Hogwarts. It was snowing, flakes swirling down in a dizzying whirl.

She barely slept that night, and was distracted for the next few days. The gift exchange wasn't until the day before Christmas Eve, after dinner. She had put her gift in the heap with the others, but she fretted over it. When at last the gift exchange happened, she opened her own gift - a lovely set of book plates - and then stood silently as Rolanda picked up the box. She tore the paper off and opened the box. Her expression as she gazed at the pearls was surprised and puzzled.

"You hate it," Irma whispered in dismay, reaching out for the box. She could wear the pearls herself, at least, and remember her dream.

Rolanda pulled the box back, clutching it possessively to her breast. "No, I love them; I was surprised, is all. I didn't expect anything so…"

"Boring?" Irma asked unhappily. 

"Expensive," Rolanda said, but there were nuances to her voice that made Irma's heart lift. Irma blushed, trying not to smile too broadly. "How about we go out tonight?" She held up the box. "Give me a place to wear these to."

Irma nodded, trying not to agree too quickly. Only the pubs would be open in Hogsmeade, but surely over a butterbeer or even a firewhiskey, she might be able to begin to explain to Rolanda how long she'd been longing. She went back to her rooms and changed her plain black dress for a fancier one. It had been so long since she'd even considered romance that she didn't have much suitable for a date, but she did the best she could. Her cheeks were pink enough, but she put pearl drops in her ears.

Rolanda met her at the door, her black winter cloak the midnight version of Irma's dark blue one. Irma could see the pearls around her neck and a hint of grey lace, and then Rolanda tied her cloak at her throat. They smiled at each other. Irma's heart caught; she knew her smile seemed stilted, but Rolanda's was equally halting. Rolanda opened the door and Irma slipped through. It had snowed again; between the wind and the accumulation, the world was as blank as a new parchment.

"It's my favourite," Irma said impulsively.

"What?" Rolanda asked.

"It’s my favourite part of snow, when you open the door and it feels like you’re the first person to see the world," Irma explained.

Rolanda smiled. "It is beautiful."

They stepped out onto the path, two pairs of boots making parallel tracks through the snow. They walked close to each other, almost touching, silent but for the crunch and squeak of the snow beneath their feet and the swish of their heavy wool cloaks. Irma's mind raced until she felt steam must be coming out her ears. She wanted to turn to Rolanda and kiss her. She wanted to reach out for Rolanda's gloved hand and slip her fingers into the curve of Rolanda's. Oh, if she could take a photograph of this moment and capture all her dreamy anticipation, she would keep it under her pillow to remind her of the simple perfection of walking with Rolanda to the pub through the snow. But she had used up her bravado, wrapping it all up in the box with the pearls. She could only wait for Rolanda to take the next step.

They were a few metres from the Three Broomsticks, cobbles sliding under their slippery feet, when Rolanda gently tugged at Irma's arm, catching her cloak and pulling her close. Irma's eyes fluttered closed as Rolanda's mouth descended against hers, a spark of heat like a falling star. _I wish I may, I wish I might…_ Irma kissed her back, fervently, her tongue sliding against Rolanda's.

She had made the right decision.


End file.
